


The Tail of Scavenger

by Ayngelcat



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: Implied or Off-stage Rape/Non-con, Implied sticky or P&P, M/M, Sexual Content, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-20 15:05:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ayngelcat/pseuds/Ayngelcat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following a 'medical' procedure, Hook lusts after Scavenger.</p><p>Written for TF-speedwriting Advent Calendar, prompt: "Team bonding exercise."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tail of Scavenger

It was the ‘examination’ that had started the desires, Hook knew full well.

Glowering, the crane skulked in a corner, his core temperature rising fast as Scavenger oozed across the room in his longlegged, ungainly but ridiculously sexy gait.

In front of the dispenser, Scavenger paused. His hips cocked at an angle as he pressed the button, releasing a stream of energon into his cube. Treads rippled on long purple legs.  That intoxicating tail rose, traces of lubricant oozing from the flexing shaft joints as the shovel-end flicked and twitched.

Hook’s circuits were on fire; he could barely suppress an audible groan. It should not have been this way! The examination of the tail whilst Scavenger was unconscious had been strictly medical – and nothing more.

To be sure, it had been fascinating, the mapping of neural pathways, the discovery that the tail was a physical expression of Scavenger’s thought and emotion. Hook had delighted in identifying how when happy, it went up (like it was now) how when sad, it curled down and when agitated, it oscillated from side to side. But they were purely scientific revelations.

And although rather _non_ -scientific procedures had followed, Hook’s medical ethics programming had not permitted these to proceed to purely pleasurable realms. Hell – he hadn’t even initiated interface.

But therein lay the problem. As Scavenger finished filling his cube and sauntered back to the settee, hips swaying, tail still high, Hook was afraid his connectors might burst from his panels in sheer frustration.

Scavenger’s treads undulated afresh as he postured in front of Bonecrusher. Hook boiled inside. He and Scavenger had not gotten on well lately. And now, he might as well not be here!  And there was no medical basis for Scavenger to keep circulating those treads, or for the tail to be carried up like that that. Or for the _twitching._

_The dirty little flirt. I should just grab him and drag him out of here. He deserves to be punished – especially for doing it in front of THAT moron …._

But that was another problem. Hook didn’t _want_ Scavenger non consensually – any more than he wanted him unconscious. He wanted him awake, responding, whimpering with need as Hook’s fingers and mouth roved over every part of him - especially that tail.  He wanted Scavenger to want him, to writhe and beg for more – a cogent manifestation of Hook’s prowess, his power.

Besides - the gestalt programming reminded him - Scavenger was a team mate. Whilst certain ‘medical procedures’ may just be within limits, other activities that may be enjoyed with others outside the team were not.

Grimacing, Hook injected coolant, de-focusing his optics, willing the calming effect on his inner workings to override his anger, and the gathering pressure in his interface components.

Scavenger sat down next to Bonecrusher. With delicate precision, he folded his legs on the seat beside him. The tail curled, the shovel settling on his thigh. He chattered away, cube held eloquently in his long fingers as a smile spread on to his cute, unmasked face. His treads still quivered spasmodically, as did his tail.

Anger turned back to wanton desire, and an aching longing that Hook could barely contain.

Bonecrusher obviously had ideas, too. His optics flared predatorily, settling firmly on the legs and the tail. He edged closer. His arm crept along the settee behind Scavenger, his impressive, fortified codpiece over-prominent, his own green leg treads rippling, as though trying to find harmony with Scavenger’s.

Hook de-focused again, furious and very conscious of his own decidedly unridged, unrippling legs. Hell – he was jealous! Not bothering with inner cooling processes this time, he took a gulp of energon, thankful for Mixmaster’s welcome additions.

The drink calmed him, brought a welcome rush of logic. This was, after all, ridiculous! Was he, Hook, not the most handsome and talented member of the team? He was a medic, for frag’s sake, not a brainless thug like Bonecrusher. There should be no problem with getting Scavenger alone and wanting it. _Voluntarily._

There was, however. Bonecusher’s arm had found its way around Scavenger’s shoulder. His fingers plucked idly at the shoulderguards. Scavenger shivered, nestling closer, his smile intensifying.

The urge to grab Scavenger seized Hook again. But at the same time, he had an idea. A very obvious idea. In fact, it was so darned obvious that – well – why the hell didn’t he think of it before?

Was he, as Devastator’s head component, not ultimately in charge of team interaction? (Never mind that Long Haul, as torso, had given himself a silly ‘coordinator’ title). And had not Scrapper said that he should get closer to members of the team on an individual basis, be less stand-offish, that this would improve the coordination between head component and the rest of the behemoth?

As Bonecrusher’s other hand fondled Scavenger’s thigh, Hook wasted no more time. He put his drink down, firmly. Then he strode to the settee, where he stood before the pair with his hands on his hips, smugly aware that his body was lean and proportioned, and that his interface equipment – his rather prominent interface equipment (and especially that way given the extent to which he wanted Scavenger) - was nicely level with the excavator’s optics.

“Scavenger!” he said tersely. “Scrapper has instructed me to proceed with a team bonding exercise between myself and yourself. It is an order. I want you to come with me, please. Now!”

And although Scavenger looked undeniably bewildered and perhaps a little afraid, and was clearly not unaware either of his uncouth team-mate glowering in obvious indignation beside him, the excavator flushed, a shy smile twisting his mouth. His red optics took on a distinctly happy glow. He unfurled his tail. The shovel dangled, sensuously, just above the ground.

 _Well_ – Hook thought with sudden smug satisfaction -   _that tread rippling and tail flicking has not been all for Bonecrusher’s benefit_.

Scavenger giggled. “Scrapper never said anything to me!” he said. The mechanism on his chest, the Devastator connection, gleamed seductively.

Bonecrusher said nothing. But he shifted, flexing his servos. A scent of heavy diesel and brute strength filled the air. Hook knew that it would not do to hang around.

And it wasn’t just that fighting his team mate was decidedly _not_ what Scrapper had suggested – especially when, if he was honest, Bonecrusher had a right to Scavenger too. Or that Hook would almost certainly lose. Scavenger’s optics were aglow now, shining with unmistakable enthusiasm. The tail twitched, sensuously.

Scavenger wanted Hook. And Hook had not needed to fuck somebody so fast and furiously (and right now) for as long as he could remember.

Besides which, after a few mind bending, circuit sizzling overloads, the Constructicon medic could _hopefully_ get on with his life. The last few cycles had been exhausting.

Grabbing Scavenger’s hand, Hook hauled him from the settee. And Scavenger came – not unwillingly at all.

Yes -  team bonding. Definitely a splendid initiative. Good old Scrapper!


End file.
